


for what it's worth

by fictionalparadises



Series: in the quiet of the night [3]
Category: Tiny Meat Gang (Band)
Genre: Acceptance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pining, Spies & Secret Agents, Violence, slowburn, tmg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalparadises/pseuds/fictionalparadises
Summary: “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”Everything.
Relationships: Cody Ko & Noel Miller, Cody Ko/Noel Miller
Series: in the quiet of the night [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640536
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	for what it's worth

**Author's Note:**

> here i am once AGAIN, with a fic to make you forget about quarantine
> 
> this is fiction and not meant to be taken seriously! enjoy

Noel’s breath clouds in front of him. He watches the smoke dissolve into thin air, cranes his neck to see the last of it disappear, eyes focusing on the sky instead when there’s nothing else to watch.

It’s early in the morning and the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. He stuffs his hands in his pocket, suppressing a shiver, and turns to Cody, who’s already staring at him with a slight frown and a worried look in his eyes.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” 

No. But it’s not like he has a choice. Besides, he’s been sitting at home for a good three weeks and he’s sick and tired of watching the same shitty tv shows for days on end. He’s memorized every crack in the hardwood floor, every chipped piece of plaster on the walls in his apartment. 

A few weeks off to recover from the undercover mission. HQ said it would be good for him to take some time for himself. Maybe even go on a nice vacation, _enjoy yourself for a little bit_. 

Like that was a possibility. Noel had refused to leave LA. Cody still had his missions alone and the thought of being far away from him was unbearable. So he sat at home, day after day after day, bored out of his fucking mind.

And now it’s time to get back to work. The skyscraper in front of him glimmers in the soft morning sun. It looks peaceful from out here, but he knows inside is the opposite of calm. 

“I’ll see you later today,” he says over his shoulder to Cody. He fights the urge to glance back at him, forces himself to walk and keep walking until he is inside. 

It’s like no time has passed at all as he strolls through the hallways. Some people give him an acknowledging nod, but the majority looks straight ahead, too far gone to be reasoned with. _We’re all murderers here._ Invisible blood stains all of their hands, ruins their expensive clothes and coats the polished floors. 

He sits down in a familiar office. Stares at the familiar face of his boss. Listens to the familiar, rough voice. But it doesn’t feel the same.

Nothing feels the same anymore.

They’ve eliminated Cain and dismantled nearly his whole following. Noel scans the file he gets pushed in his hands. 

_Collaborators in Colorado, Arizona, Illinois_ _—_ _to be dealt with._

_A.T. Carillo, expired. R. Lee, expired. C. Parrish, to be dealt with._

The list goes on and on, all people who were caught up in Cain’s web. Most of them are dead or in prison, the remainder still off the grid. HQ will undoubtedly get their hands on them soon enough. 

_Cain, expired._

Noel stares at the words, reads them again. He expected to feel glad, relieved, to revel in the idea of him getting killed after everything he put him through, but instead he feels… empty. The gaping black hole in his chest only expands.

A part of him is glad, truly. Cain is dead, the only punishment suitable for someone with such a vile mind. But it doesn’t feel like a victory. Not at all. 

Because Cain is dead, and he’s still managed to get in Noel’s head. He’s gone and Noel is stuck with his ghost—a parasite that has settled in his mind, poisoning every thought and idea. He is shadow looming until the darkness closes in on him. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

“We have a mission for you, Mr. Miller.” Noel remains quiet, simply waits for his boss to continue. “It’s classified.” Deja-vu. He’s sitting in this same office in this same spot, but that was months ago, before—before Cain. _If you’re willing to go through with this,_ he knows the exact words already, “...you thereby accept the risks it might have for your wellbeing.” 

“What kind of mission?” 

“Do you accept?” 

A moment of silence. “I accept.” He barely recognizes his own voice. Cold and low, a hint of bitterness to his every word—it reminds him of when he lost Aleena. Only it was worse back then. Or maybe a different kind of bad. 

His boss nods and Noel signs the contract that he’s given. Then he’s lead to a large room with spotless walls and it smells like rubbing alcohol and he can do nothing but stare at the literal map that has been formed on the white plaster. Names, dates, phone numbers, addresses. In the middle, a large picture of Cain.

Most images have a red cross drawn on them, the letters _deceased_ stuck under. Noel’s attention is drawn to a picture right of Cain. No red X. Only a smiling man he doesn’t recognize on it, the name Caleb Parrish written on it with a black marker. 

_To be dealt with._

He points to the picture. “That one. Why are you after him?” If he was that important, he would’ve been around the facility with Cain.

“Parrish—Cain’s unofficial official successor.” His boss opens a file and drops it on the table in front of them. “Raised him as his own son. The only one who might be able to restore the empire Cain built.” The biggest remaining threat. 

And they’re going to send Noel after him.

He feels a twinge of anger at the thought of someone rebuilding what he bled for to destroy. The feeling almost startles him—he’s felt numb for the past few weeks and then there’s suddenly anger, white-hot and blazing in the gnawing darkness in his chest. A rocket shooting through the night sky, loud, violent, the opposite of soothing and maybe that’s why it’s a reassuring feeling. He’s done sitting around waiting for salvation. It’s not going to show up on his doorstep one morning to tell him all is forgiven. 

The rage feels refreshing. He’s felt so hollow for the past month and now there is a tiny flame ignited by the revenge he wants, a spark in the darkness. It feels fucking _good_. He’s going to make them pay, Parrish most of all, he’ll chase his fury until it’s nothing more than a burned out stump, even if that spark might turn into an inferno that’ll take him down altogether.

He’ll make them pay. 

* * *

Official briefing tomorrow. A file the size of a book that he needs to read beforehand. 

Cody isn’t in his apartment when he gets home. It feels awfully empty without him, like it always does when he’s not around, and Noel focuses on the slumbering temper to get his mind off the thoughts.

He waits, and waits some more, until he falls asleep on top of the covers, still alone.

When he wakes up, the television is still on, the blaring ad a faint background noise, and the light softly accents Cody, who’s standing in the middle of the room. 

One glance at the clock tells Noel it’s three in the morning, and another glance at Cody’s backpack tells him he’s come to say goodbye. 

The sudden silence almost hurts Noel’s ears when Cody presses the mute button. “I’m off on a mission.” 

_Be safe,_ he wants to say, or _When will you be back?_ But he doesn’t. The words lay heavy on his tongue. 

Cody walks over, lightly grazes his fingers. “When do you leave for yours?” 

He’s always been better at this, Noel thinks, and he hates himself for not being able to change. He wants to, wants to be better for Cody so desperately, but he’s been so close to losing him before that it hurts to think it could actually happen. Maybe he’s shielding himself for what’s inevitably to come, or maybe he’s just scared to finalize his feelings, to speak them into existence even if Cody already knows, but he can’t do it. 

“Tomorrow.” 

Cody nods, a stray strand of hair falling in front of his eyes. Noel suppresses the urge to brush it from his face, even though his fingers itch to let the calloused pads scrape along the soft skin of his cheek. 

“Don’t die,” Noel whispers as Cody turns to move away. It’s starting to pass as _good luck_ , or maybe even as _I love you_ without actually saying those three words aloud. 

He glances over his shoulder with the hint of a grin. “I’d never.” The smile fades slowly and there’s a glaze in his eyes as he adds, “Same goes for you.” 

Noel wants to jump up and kiss him, but he only watches as Cody leaves the room. A soft click echoes through the apartment as the door is pulled shut. 

* * *

Parrish hasn’t been sighted since Cain’s acquaintances started getting rounded up and murdered. Parrish' right hand, however, is a lanky man named Theo who has a Cheshire Cat-like grin and a love for pit-fighting. 

Pit fights are just a primal variation on ring fights, and instead of taking place in actual boxing rings, the competitions are being held in literal sandboxes. The public decides the border, the referee decides the fighters. One step too close to the center and you’ll get pushed in, no option to back out.

Only one rule is honored: there are no boundaries. Breaking someone’s arm is a-okay, choking someone until they go out is perfectly fine—tapping out is the safe word, but tapping out means losing, and winning is everything.

Noel has never competed in pit-fights before, but he gets the gist.

Don’t lose.

* * *

So he doesn’t.

He wins the first fight with ease. His opponent underestimates him grandly; being short doesn’t equal being incapable. He’s faster and smarter than the people he needs to fight.

The nights pass in a blur, each one more bloody than the previous, and even though Noel wins all fights from Monday to Thursday, he occasionally wakes up with his eye glued shut from the swelling or bloodied sheets from a cut he hasn’t noticed yet.

He’s tired every single morning, already done with waiting for Theo to come out and play and gods be damned, he misses Cody so much it physically hurts to awake in an empty bed. 

On Wednesday, he stumbles home at three in the morning, feeling a little light-headed and resenting the silence the moment he steps inside. 

Three clicks, is all it takes him, really, to find Cody’s address. Two more clicks before he’s ordered an Uber. 

In the past months, he’s never been to Cody’s house. He’s not sure why. Maybe because it feels so defining to do it—it feels simpler when Cody only comes to his place. _One-sided_ , goes through the back of his mind. _Won’t work that way_.

Noel stands in front of a garden-gate, staring at the small house behind it. It’s dark inside, curtains closed and mailbox packed. The garden is overgrown, withering flowers on the lawn where the grass is too long, and Noel almost feels like he’s intruding as he makes his way up to the front-door.

He hopes the neighbors are asleep. He most definitely looks suspicious, picking a lock with his hood up in the middle of the fucking night.

It’s cold when he enters. Flicking on the light, he kicks off his shoes and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Without sparing the rest of the house another glance, Noel goes straight to the bedroom. 

It’s simplistic, but somehow cosy. There are two frames on Cody’s drawer and Noel stares at them, his warm fingers fogging the glass. And though the pictures are from years ago, judging by both the haircut and Cody’s face, he looks… happy. He’s smiling that smile Noel has stopped seeing so often. 

The thought makes his stomach churn. He puts back the picture, almost as if the frame burned him, and sits down on the bed at the realization that maybe, _maybe_ Noel has stopped trying to make him smile. Has stopped trying to make Cody happy.

There’s no excuse good enough for Noel to stop feeling absolutely fucking shit about it. There’s no explanation to justify his lack of effort. 

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar house, but the sheets still faintly smell like Cody and Noel finally feels like he can sleep again. 

It’s just past five in the morning when Noel vows that he’s going to fix his mistakes.

* * *

It takes him a few seconds to realize where he is when Noel wakes up. 

The fridge is empty, so he only grabs a glass of water and shoves open the curtains, staring at the wilted flowers in the front yard. 

Three tiny plants stand in the sunlight on the window sill, and Noel fails to withhold a smile at the idea of Cody keeping _something_ alive in this house, watering the peace lilies every now and then and making sure they face the sunlight that falls in through the curtains.

He pushes the third plant out of the shade. Then he empties the mailbox. 

Around eight, right before he needs to leave for another night of fighting, he gets a call from a blocked caller ID. He doesn’t say anything as he answers.

A few seconds of silence. Then, “Noel?”

“Cody?” His brows knit together.

Cody releases a breath. “Hey.”

“What are—we’re not supposed to call each other, you know that right?” He says, but then it hits him that something might have happened and worry settles in his stomach like a stone, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just—I wanted to know how you were doing.” Cody sounds almost embarrassed and Noel pictures him dragging a hand through his hair, like he always does when he’s worried or fidgety.

“I—yeah, no, I’m okay. I’m good.” _I’m at your place,_ he wants to say, but it feels stupid to admit. Another vulnerability.

 _Fix his mistakes_ , he remembers. Do better.

“When will you be home?” Noel asks. 

Cody is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, he almost sounds taken aback by the question. “Soon. I think. Two, three days.”

Noel nods, eyes catching the plants on the window sill. “Good.” He hesitates before adding, “I miss you.” 

When Cody replies, Noel can practically hear the half-smile in his voice. “I miss you too. I’ll be home as soon as possible, okay? In the meantime, don’t die.”

“I won’t,” Noel promises. He makes Cody promise the same. And when the call ends, the sudden silence is still deafening, but a little more bearable than before. 

* * *

Noel is going to die. He’s going to die in some back alley that smells like piss and cheap beer and there’s not a single person in the world that will think of him as the light in his eyes dies. 

He brought this onto himself, really, but this night was already shitty and damn it if he didn’t feel like getting his face beaten to a pulp for the fourth night in a row.

So yeah, maybe his fingers had fumbled with a narcotic injection during one of the fights, and maybe he’d slipped on a pair of brass knuckles when he got really tired as the night advanced. 

And that is how he ends up here, in some backstreet of downtown LA, cornered by a handful of angry competitors he’d beaten earlier. Angry isn’t the right word to describe it—no, it is full-blown rage he senses.

He’s a good fighter. He’s smart, and stealthy, and his height is actually beneficial in most cases. 

But he’s just so tired.

He’s going to die. He knows he’s going to die when they come at him at once. And he tries to block their punches at first, but somewhere along he just—stops. His muscles give up—or maybe it was a conscious decision, he's not sure. 

Noel lies on the cold concrete and stares at the inky black sky above him. He barely feels the punches anymore. Someone will clean the blood of the brick wall tomorrow and that’ll be it—that’ll be the end of Noel Miller. Maybe it’s what he deserves.

Then he thinks of Cody. He thinks of Cody, with eyes so bright even though he’s so fucked up, Cody who laughs even in the darkest of moments, Cody who has three plants on his window sill and Cody who has loved him so fiercely throughout this past year that he’s started to feel a little more alive each morning he wakes up next to him.

Will Cody still tend his plants when Noel is gone? And if Noel is gone, who will put the flowers in the sun when Cody’s off on his own missions?

A reason to live. Cody makes Noel want to _live_. He can’t leave him behind. He can't give up. 

Noel takes three seconds to assess the situation. The brass knuckles burn in his pockets, still crusted with blood. He’ll have to clean them once he gets home.

One of the guys has a gun poking out of the waistband from his jeans. Morons. 

Hook his foot behind an ankle. With a pull, someone lands face-first on the concrete and takes another with him. Put his fist up. There’s a sickening crunch when the brass knuckles come into contact with a nose and Noel would’ve felt sorry for the guy if he didn’t enjoy the feeling so much. Grab the gun. He’s on his feet in one swift movement, trying to hide his limp, and he thinks he might’ve broken a rib. 

He considers leaving a few of them alive. _No witnesses, no loose ends_. A sudden silence dawns on the alley and Noel takes of the brass knuckles, stepping over the cooling bodies as he polishes the metal with his shirt.

His chest hurts with every breath he takes and he’s barely able to walk up straight, but he can’t exactly take an Uber when his face is bruised and swollen and his shirt is covered in blood, so he walks all the way to Cody’s house. _Only because it’s closer,_ he tells himself.

The white led-light in the small bathroom doesn’t do wonders for how he looks, but he at least determines that he doesn’t have a broken rib and that his ankle is only slightly sprained. 

It still hurts when he works to get off his shirt and dabs ethanol on the cuts to disinfect them, grimacing against the pain.

There’s a thud of a backpack hitting the ground and Noel whips his head around, coming face to face with Cody.

“What happened.” 

If Noel thought he knew what sheer rage looked like, it doesn’t come close in any way to the look on Cody’s face as he makes his way to him.

“Who did this to you?” He snaps again, clenching his jaw.

“It’s nothing—” Noel tries to brush it off, because if anything, he hates seeing Cody upset _because_ of him. 

“Nothing?” Cody lets out a cynical laugh, firmly but gently grabbing Noel’s face to inspect it closer. “ _Nothing?_ Your face is fifty fucking shades of purple and you call it nothing?” His expression turns harsh again, though there’s still that desperate edge in his eyes that he fails to hide. “You told me you were okay—you _promised_ me.” 

Noel carefully takes Cody’s hand from his face and intertwines their fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

“You can’t do that to me again.” Cody pleads, voice near frantic. The words hit Noel in the gut. _Again_. Over the past months, he’s slowly started to realize that he’s not the only one changed by the undercover mission. 

“I’m sorry,” Noel repeats, pulling Cody closer to him and ignoring the sting in his chest, “I’m still here, okay? I’m still here.” 

They stand there for minutes, arms wrapped around each other, and Noel counts every time Cody breathes in, feels his chest rise and fall as his racing thoughts slowly skid to a halt. 

On the forty-eighth breath, Cody sharply inhales and slowly loosens his grip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why would you?” Noel asks, resisting the urge to add _man, bro,_ anything to the sentence to take the delicacy, the sensitivity away, but to have a conversation like this is rare; this kind of openness is unfamiliar. Noel feels bare, somehow, naked, and it is both frightening and gratifying at the same time. 

“I—I’ll clean you up, okay?” Cody moves on, not from the subject but just to get some space between them, perhaps only to switch to a different kind of intimacy where there’s skin on skin and not in a sexual way—something deeper than that. Noel _knows_ but he doesn’t.

He watches intently as Cody cleans the cuts. He forgets the burn of the alcohol on his open wounds, forgets that it hurts, forgets how to breathe as he stares shamelessly. 

“I love you.” It slips out. Three simple words. 

Cody’s eyes snap up to meet his gaze, hand stuck mid-air and lips parted. 

Noel doesn’t care if he says it back. Cody just needed to know.

And it’s strange, really, how Noel thought it’d be so fucking scary to say, like a part of him got laid bare. He imagined it to be a grand reveal, a weight getting lifted off his shoulder when he said it, but everything feels how it’s supposed to be because Noel loves Cody and there’s nothing more true on this entire earth. 

Noel loves Cody. Water is wet. There’s no difference.

The conflict is visible behind Cody's eyes. He's struggling to pick between what he's been programmed to think and what he feels.

Then Cody lets out a shaky breath, left hand tightening on Noel’s thigh where it rests, and he replies, “I love you too, you idiot. So try not to die instantly whenever I’m not around, okay?” 

Noel stares at him for a solid five seconds before he lets out a soft chuckle, hands grabbing his. "Okay." 

* * *

Theo comes out of hiding the next night. It still hurts a little to move, so the brass knuckles have miraculously found their way into Noel’s pocket again. 

He takes a few hits during the first three rounds and is ready to clock out, done for the night already, but then a roar goes through the crowd. They part as one for Theo and he riles them up as he walks towards the pit, the people chanting and yelling his name. 

Noel briefly meets Cody’s gaze, who’s watching amid the crowd, and nods imperceptibly before facing Theo. As he jumps onto the sand, Noel smiles at him, all arrogance and aloofness. 

Theo's a better fighter. Noel simply has the brains.

By the end of the hour, Theo is rammed agains the wall outside the building, his face painfully scraping along the mahogany bricks and Noel hopes it hurts as much as it looks. He scrunches his nose in pain and Noel turns his arm higher on his back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” 

_Everything_. “Just tell me what I wanna know and you can go,” Noel states, voice sounding casual, as if he’s not standing in some sketchy back alley, ready to beat someone up.

“I’m not telling you shit, motherfucker,” Theo spits, squirming under Noel’s grip. He responds by squeezing harder. “I’ll kill you for this,” he threatens in a low voice, “don’t you know who I am?” 

Cody comes strolling around the corner, hands in his pockets, looking as beautiful as ever, whistling a catchy tune from a tv commercial. 

“I know exactly who you are. I suppose that’s the problem, isn’t it?” 

Theo lets out a roar when he nears.

“Oh, sorry man.” Cody pats him on the shoulder. “I’m with him.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and holds up a clear injection.

“Are you sure I can’t just slam his head against the wall?” Noel sighs deeply, casting his eyes up when Theo starts yelling again, a string of slurs leaving his mouth with surprising speed.

Cody grins, twirling the syringe around his fingers before plunging it into Theo's neck. “Oh, there’s no one that’d rather do that than me, but… well, let’s not give him any brain damage until _after_ he gives us the information we need.” 

He’s got a point.

Noel puts on a beanie, his hood up over that, and it’s an easy disguise: two guys hauling their shitfaced friend home, just another friday night in LA. 

Noel is too focused on not dropping the man he’s holding and doesn’t notice that someone is coming their way until Cody laughs exaggeratedly, hand brushing past his behind Theo's neck, “Yeah, no, and then he just accepted the challenge! What an idiot, can never stand to lose, can he?” 

Noel plays into it smoothly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone knock back _that_ many shots within an hour,” he exclaims, voice light and cheerful. “He’ll sure have a headache when he wakes up tomorrow.” 

Not that Theo will wake up tomorrow. A bullet through the brain does wonders for insomnia—you’ll sleep for eternity.

He supposes he should feel guilty. He’s taking a life. But what is another when he’s taken so many already? Where he felt guilty at the beginning of his career—years ago—there is now only numbness, a black crease where he tucks away every regret, every kill he’s ever made. He stays away from it, fears that if he gets to close he will get sucked into it to never emerge from it again.

Perhaps one day he will be strong enough to face it. His past. But for now, it is meaningless, insignificant. All that matters is this.

And if he’s honest, not every life he’s taken has been done remorsefully. No, on nights like these, his hands are itching for the kill, eager to spill blood, because some people just fucking deserve to suffer and to _end_ , they deserve to be forgotten for the things they have done. 

He sometimes wonders if he belongs in that category too. 

* * *

Cody quietly walks in and leans against one of the pillars, an easy smile on his face, arms crossed and head resting against the wood as he watches from a distance. 

Noel flexes his fingers, looks at his bloodied knuckles, before clenching his hand into a fist and punching Theo in the face again. He'll probably have a sore arm tomorrow from this, is all he thinks. 

Theo groans, his face bruised and bleeding. “I’m not telling you shit. You’re wasting your time,” he spits, blood dribbling down his chin. 

Noel stares at him for a few seconds before walking over to Cody. 

“He’s still not talking?” Cody asks. 

He shakes his head. “Did you find it?” Cody nods. “Good, then can we get this over with? I want to go home.” Noel’s eyes widen slightly at the realization of his words, but a smile slowly spreads across Cody’s face. _Home_. 

“I got this.” Cody crouches in front of Theo, pulling a black phone from his pocket and holding up in front of him. “Familiar, isn’t this?” 

Theo looks up, his movement clearly costing him a lot of effort, and sucks in a breath at the sight of the phone. 

“We can do this the easy way, or—well… the painful way, I suppose.” Cody talks in a soft tone, but Noel is glad not to be on the receiving end of it. “Either you tell us where your little friend Parrish is, or this is going to get very messy very quickly.” One or the other, it is going to end with his brains all over the concrete. At least it’ll wash away easily. 

“Over my dead body,” Theo spits. 

Cody shrugs. “Okay then.” 

The shot echoes through the empty warehouse, followed by a loud thud when Theo's chair topples over, eyes cast up to a sky he will never see again.

Cody looks down at the blood trickling over the floor, gun in his right hand and phone in his left. Then he glances at Noel. “It was either this or scooping his eye out. Prefer this, if I’m honest.” 

Good point. 

It’s simple to unlock the phone now, with a dead man’s eyes still widened in shock. If only everything else was that easy.

* * *

Cody is the one that wakes up screaming that night. He stumbles out of bed, tears streaming down his face, and almost trips over his own feet as he rushes to the toilet. 

Noel blinks against the light as he enters the bathroom.

Cody doesn’t throw up, however, and even if it’s still painful to see him rest his head against the cold ceramic with flushed cheeks and red eyes, Noel considers it improvement. 

“Are you okay?” He softly asks. 

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Then he scrambles to his feet, suddenly panicked and frantic again, and grabs Noel tightly. “Promise me.” 

“What?” 

“Promise me.” Cody breathes.

“Promise you what?” Noel asks, brows furrowed. Something’s off.

His nails dig into Noel’s bicep almost painfully, but he doesn’t flinch. “That you—you—” Cody sounds out of breath. “Please, just…” 

Noel gently gets Cody’s hand off him and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him and kissing a tear-stained cheek. “I promise.”

Slowly, Cody’s breath evens out, his chest falling and rising steadily again, and his arms tighten around Noel, pulling him impossibly closer. 

When they’re laying in bed again, Cody still clinging to him, Noel can only wonder what kind of images haunt the man he loves.

* * *

Noel is the one that shows up with his backpack unannounced in the middle of the night this time—now that he has the information he needs, he has to act before the chance to end this shit once and for all slips through his fingers.

It’s a surprise, however, that Cody is wide awake, slinging his backpack on the exact moment Noel enters the bedroom.

“Hey,” he slowly says.

“You’re late.” Cody points out, busy adjusting the straps of his bag.

Noel frowns. “We didn’t set up anything. What are you—” he trails off, squinting his eyes at the neatly made bed behind Cody. “You have a mission too?” 

Cody rolls his eyes as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but then a smug smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “We’re going on the same mission, idiot.” 

“What?” He’s a little confused—didn’t he have to finish this alone?—and the frown between his brow only deepens as he follows after Cody, who flicks off the bedroom lights and hops down the stairs. 

“I managed to convince HQ,” he explains, “Wasn’t as difficult as I thought. We both agreed on the fact that you shouldn’t finish this on your own—potential psychological dangers.” He grabs his keys from the kitchen counter and Noel’s eyes land on the plants on the window sill as Cody closes the curtains halfway. “But really, I just want to mow down a bunch of cruel assholes and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. And, well, spending more time with you isn’t something I’ll mind.” 

Noel tries desperately to hide the smile widening on his face.

He fails miserably.

* * *

They’re driving on a seemingly endless road across a rocky landscape, Noel behind the wheel and Cody in the passenger seat with his feet propped up on the dashboard. 

The fifteen-hour drive ahead of them should nauseate Noel—he tends to get claustrophobic when he’s holed up in tight spaces, and the cramped, shabby SUV he’s driving would usually creep him out—but all he thinks about is that he has fifteen hours with Cody off the record, no cctvs they should keep in mind, no sniffer dogs that might be watching them, and this time he doesn’t mind HQ’s decision to not let them fly to Denver. 

The local radio plays softly in the background and Noel, for once, appreciates the silence that has settled in the car. Cody’s eyes are fixed on the landscape that zooms past, head tilted back where it leans against the headrest, and Noel’s eyes flick from the road to Cody’s face. 

He wants to touch him, just to make sure Cody’s actually _there_. That he is not about to wake up from a strange, comforting dream. 

That fear is always there—that none of this is real. 

Because how can it be real? How can someone like Cody love someone like Noel? 

_I love you too, you idiot,_ Cody’s voice echoes in the back of his mind, but more often than not does he wonder if it’s not a lie. He’s been wondering that ever since he returned from his undercover mission; what if Cody feels compelled to love him? What if Cody feels guilty about Noel going through all those months with Cain and now only pretends, to pay him back for saving his life?

It was different before—because then it was still fragile, still new, it could still end without Noel being truly affected. But now Noel loves Cody, and he’s not sure what he would do if Cody ended this thing between them. 

Yet on other days, he’ll catch Cody staring at him, or he’ll smile at him with that rare smile, or he’ll kiss Noel like it is the last thing he’ll ever do, and then there is no other possibility than that Cody doesn’t love him back, even if it’s only a fraction of what Noel feels for him.

Noel lays his hand on Cody’s thigh. He almost lets out a relieved breath—it’s real, he’s here.

Cody looks down. Then he lays his hand atop Noel’s and intertwines their fingers.

* * *

The safehouse is empty. 

They go in with their guns ready, but the living room is deserted, chairs toppled back as if whatever happened ended in a fight. Did someone else get here first?

Noel frowns and looks up at Cody, whose gaze is fixated on the table. Then his eyes snap up and as though he’s able to read the question in Noel’s eyes, shakes his head. He points to the ashtray. A half-burned cigarette is still smoking. 

Noel looks at the chairs again. Knocked over by a fight or because they were in a rush? He whips his head to Cody. _They knew we were coming_. 

He nods in understanding and signals to the hallway. The stairs don’t creak when they rush up the steps, but the first floor is deserted as well. 

Right as Cody opens the door to the attic, a loud clang rings through the air—outside. Noel is sprinting down the stairs, two steps at the time, but when he reaches the bedroom balcony, he can only watch as a black SUV speeds out of the street. 

“Fuck!” He yells, slamming his hand against the metal railing, and Cody stands in the doorpost, narrowing his eyes as he thinks. He leaves the room without a word.

When Noel comes downstairs again, Cody is busy on the laptop he retrieved from the car, a stack of papers next to him. 

Without looking up, he says, “They knew we were coming, and I know that’s worrisome, but let’s keep those thoughts for later—right now we have only one shot at getting this motherfucker and we need to keep it together, okay?” Cody’s eyes flick up at the last sentence. “We need to keep going.” 

Noel looks at Cody, really looks at him and he wonders what he ever did to deserve him. Then he nods. “Alright.” He sits down next to Cody, watches as he opens new tabs and sites and hacks into databases like he’s merely unlocking a door. 

“So they’re on the run. The most logical step they’re going to take is to get out of Denver—as far as possible from here, preferably. They’re either going by car or by plane.” Cody thinks aloud, fingers hovering above the keyboard.

Noel continues his train of thought. “Now we know what their car looks like, so they’re either getting a new one, which would be time-consuming, or they’re going by plane, which would be the more logical option." Parrish was already prepared to run before they came here. They must have had an escape plan ready.

Cody half-turns his head to Noel, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Private jet?” 

“Most likely.” 

Noel lets his elbows rest on the table, rubbing his face with his hands as he listens to the quick tapping of keys. It feels like an eternity passes, but it’s only been five minutes when Cody speaks up again. “There’s a private plane leaving in forty-five minutes from Centennial Airport. Registered under the name of A.T. Carillo.” 

It sounds vaguely familiar. Noel racks his brain trying to jog his memory.

_A.T. Carillo, expired._

Noel’s head snaps to Cody. “It's him. We have to go. How far is it?” 

“Uh…” Cody trails off, eyes scanning the screen. “Thirty-two minutes.”

Noel taps his thumb against his lower lip. “The SUV is too slow, we won’t make it. Any alternatives? Where is the plane headed?” 

It’s quiet as they both think about their best options, and involuntarily, Noel ponders about the option that is least likely to hurt Cody in any way. 

Cody’s searching something on the laptop and after a while he sits back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Can you ride a motorcycle?”

* * *

They’re speeding on the highway, Cody’s arms wrapped around Noel’s waist so tightly it’s going to make him think he’s actually scared, but Noel isn’t complaining. It feels primal and not lowkey at all, and HQ will definitely not be happy about it, yet maybe that is why it feels so fucking freeing. 

Noel slows down once they’re nearing the airport, giving Cody the chance to take out his phone and search for the specific directions. “How, exactly, are we going to get through security?” 

“We’re not,” Cody answers, and he looks up from his phone to point at a street with a dead end. “Private planes depart from a different hangar. And you can get past anything if you have the right key,” he grins, holding up his phone for Noel to see.

Noel shakes his head but can’t keep the impressed smile from his face as he revs the engine. 

Exactly forty two minutes have passed when they arrive. The plane is stationed right outside the hangar already, but from the looks of it, no one is inside yet.

“Why haven’t they left already?” Noel frowns as he hoists the bag over his shoulder. 

Cody shrugs casually. “Because you need permission from air traffic control.” Noel’s head snaps to him, the question _did you seriously crash the entire ATC of Denver for this?_ on the tip of his tongue, but a loud clang on metal interrupts him. 

Without wasting another word, Cody nods and Noel takes off with the duffel bag, mind already having made up the most convenient spot in the hangar. He doesn’t even really need to think about it anymore. The skimming comes naturally—if there's a threat, it must be neutralized. 

As Noel hurries to the first floor and sets up his rifle, Cody works to impair the plane. It makes Noel nervous when he enters the cockpit and he can’t see Cody anymore—they should’ve put in their earpieces and Noel silently curses himself for his negligence as he screws the optic on his rifle—somehow, it seems he always puts Cody in the most dangerous situations instead of himself. 

From where he waits in the control room on the first floor, he has a clear vision on Cody, who just reappears on the stairs of the plane. His eyes fleet up to search for him, but something draws his attention—the party enters the hangar. 

Noel can’t hear what they’re saying, so he tries his best to analyze what is happening. Four men—by the way they surround him, the guy in the middle must be Parrish.

They talk. Patiently at first, but one of the bodyguards gets annoyed, the rumble of his voice carrying all the way to where Noel waits. 

Playtime is over, it appears, when the agitated guard pulls his gun from his jacket. He is down before the others even realize what has happened, the shot ringing through the empty hangar, and the remaining two guards are dead before Parrish can so much as blink.

Cody is onto him, face smashing against the ground and gun yanked from his hand. Noel takes a second to make sure Parrish is in no way able to get to Cody, then disassembles his rifle and makes his way down.

He remembers the hangar from all those months ago. The fear he felt in that moment, in that place. A fear he will probably carry along with him for the rest of his life. It’s a sadistic joke to have this happen here, of all places. Life is laughing him in the face. 

But maybe it is also a full circle.

He stands in front of Parrish and thinks of Cain. He planned a speech—dramatic, as always—and he expected to feel furious, all the feelings from the undercover mission and the aftermath coming out like water breaking through a dam. Yet he can’t open his mouth, can’t find the words to poison Parrish like Cain poisoned him. 

The anger is still there—along with the disgust, the fear, the pain—but it is not as lucid as before. The sharp edges have dulled over the past months. Noel knows who made that possible.

Parrish is snarling at him, but Noel doesn’t hear it. He glances at Cody, whose eyes are trained on Parrish as if he’s a ticking time bomb, and he realizes that it doesn’t matter anymore. 

He’s so tired. But it’s a different kind of tired—exhaustion from constantly having to look over his shoulder, from constantly having to worry about Cody, both when he’s off on his own mission and when they’re together. 

But loving Cody has been the most wonderful thing he’s ever experienced. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

Finally, Cody looks up at him and Noel feels every little piece of his past clicking into place when he meets his gaze. Then he smiles through the pain in his chest at the man he loves.

Maybe love isn't supposed to be easy. Maybe it has to be tears and heartache and longing, or maybe it is simply the knowledge that you'll die from it eventually, but still taking that deadly leap to sate something that cannot be sated.

And if falling in love feels like dying, Noel decides there's no other way he'd rather go. 

He holds out his hand for the gun Cody is holding, exhaling deeply. Another name to add to his list. 

Cody’s eyes flick to the gun and after a second, his fingers tighten around the grip. Then he glances at Parrish. Before Noel can stop him, he raises the barrel to Parrish’ forehead, cool metal pressing against warm skin, and shoots. 

_No_ . The shout is stuck in his throat. His eyes widen as his head snaps to Cody. _Why?_ he wants to ask, because he knows the effect it will have on him, knows that it will result in throwing up when he gets back to the hotel room they rented, because it will turn into another ghost that haunts Cody during the bleak moments of the day. _Why would you do that for me?_

The answer is clear in his eyes.

* * *

“For what it’s worth,” Cody says three hours into the drive back, grabbing Noel’s hand and intertwining their fingers, “I did enjoy this roadtrip with you. We should go on vacation more often.” He presses a kiss to the top of Noel’s knuckles before resting their entwined hands on his thigh. 

Noel chuckles softly, gaze fixed on the road. “When there’s someone that needs to be assassinated on the Bahamas, I’ll be the first person to hand in my resume.”

Cody rolls his eyes and stares out the window. “Dick.” 

He’s right, though. And besides somewhat enjoying the time together, this trip gave him some needed clarity. 

For now, though, he wants to go home. The idea of waking up in Cody’s bed tomorrow, arms wrapped so tightly around his waist he’ll barely be able to breathe, is the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get.

Another vacation sounds nice. But as Noel thinks of the plants on the window sill, the half drawn curtains and the wilted flowers in the front yard, he decides that will do, too.

As long as Cody is there with him.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> now that school is cancelled i am hellbent on writing so maybe, MAYBE, a part 4
> 
> leave a comment or send me a message on tumblr / twitter @sundaycore ♥


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